The Era of the Marauders
by thewanderlustmarauder
Summary: They were young, reckless, lively, and spirited. They were passionate and brimming with potential. But as war waged on, the cold, dark world had no room for the ethereal whose livelihood belonged elsewhere. A newfound couple. A broken friendship. A shattered brotherhood. Experience the bittersweet, ephemeral Marauder's Era in this short collection of one-shots.
1. mellifluous

**AN: Hi everyone! I'm thewanderlustmarauder! This is my first publicly shared fanfiction, so constructive criticism and help are both greatly appreciated. This will be a collection of strictly canon one-shots featuring characters from the Marauders Era. Enjoy!**

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 _ **~mellifluous~**_

 **-Seventh Year-**

His messy hair is pushed up his forehead, slicked with sweat. His glasses are hanging askew, and his clothes are splattered in grease and perspiration. He's a mess of black and orange glitter, sticky cobwebs, slimy dark paint, and overly ripe pumpkins that have accumulated with hours of hard, backbreaking work.

"This is impossible, Evans," he complains. He lifts the velvet, onyx banner higher, nearly toppling over under its heavy weight. "How do Muggles possibly manage this?"

Ten feet away, she smiles. The tips of her mouth quirk up, stretching broadly across her cheeks that are tinged with pink. "Welcome to my world, Potter. You've never had to lift a finger in your life, I'm guessing?" she teases. Her eyes are glinting with humor.

She holds up the other end of the black lace banner, adjusting it until both sides look straight and are aligned immaculately together. After giving it one last, long scan, she seems to be satisfied with it. "Perfect," she whispers, grinning. "You can let go now, James." She hops down the ladder, her feet landing with a light, delicate thud.

"One down, forty-nine to go," he exclaims, in mock-exasperation. "Honestly, Lily, I thought that Dumbledore was crazy before, but now I know that he's completely _mental_.

She laughs lightly. "I hate it too, James, but don't complain. You're the one who agreed to be Head Boy. It's a Hogwarts _tradition_ ," she says. "Head Boys and Head Girls always have to set up feasts the Muggle way. It's proof of their _perseverance_ or something."

"Perseverance…" he snorts. "I have to live with Padfoot. That's perseverance in its finest form, Evans!"

She laughs again. "I've had to put up with you, Potter, and the rest of your gang for years," she teases. "If anyone deserves a break for being perseverant, it's me!"

"Okay, okay," he says as he raises his palms in defeat. "You win. I know it must be hard to compete with the best-looking, most talented boys in the year."

She swats his arm. "Get back to work," she laughs, and the two continue to cover the hall in bright pumpkins and enchanted candles. They bring piles of enchanted platters of food to the tables, and they carefully carry each crystal goblet to the seats. Mountains of the finest food are brought to them from the kitchens. It's mouthwatering work as it is backbreaking, but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said that he didn't enjoy it.

After countless hours fly by, she steps back to admire their handiwork, and he does the same. The only light illuminating the halls come from the floating candles that they hung. Enchanted bats swarm around the ceilings, and pumpkins cover every inch of the empty walls. Bright orange and black banners and streamers are wrung around the hall, adding a festive touch.

She stands on the tips of her toes, and her eyes light up, trying to catch every inch of the hall. Then, she turns towards him, pride in her partner shining in her eyes. "It's gorgeous," she whispers, and he can't help but agree.

"And, James," she adds, her face breaking into a grin, "I think this is the hardest you've ever worked in your life, hm? I'm so proud of you. You know, I'd never have thought that the infamous _James Potter_ would work this hard."

"Me neither," he says with a grin on his face, and it's true. He's never had to work for anything in his life, well, maybe one thing. But he's never had to attend all the Quidditch practices or run through the daily scrimmages to be Gryffindor's star player. He's never had to study all the moves and techniques that his teammates pored over to make it on the team in his second year. And he's never had to practice that much to flawlessly Transfigure items with a tip of his wand.

And he's never been prouder of his work in his entire life.

"Let's hurry," she says, interrupting his train of thought. "We've got to get the ghosts ready. We're doing the synchronized performances this year, and they've got to be here early."

Before he can protest, she tugs on his sleeve. "Are you coming?" she asks.

"What are we waiting for?" he smiles. She takes his hand and grins.

They run across the every nook and cranny of the castle, searching for the dozens of school ghosts whilst evading the clutches of the caretaker. They blaze through the ghosts, sending each other into flurries as chills rise up their spines. Cold fills their bodies, but only warmth has a place in their souls. The whole time, she doesn't let go of him, and he swears that he can feel sparks running up and down his hand.

By the time they finally reach the Great Hall again, they're both laughing and gasping for breath, and neither has an idea why.

Her red hair is wild and strewn everywhere, her eyes are shining with laughter, and her cheeks are flushed with happiness. Her mouth quirks up in the same little smile, and when she laughs, he thinks it's the most beautiful sound in the world.

But he's wrong.

Without thinking, he takes her into his arms, gently pressing his lips onto her soft pink ones. Every coherent thought is whisked out of his head as he kisses her. The war, the deaths, the hurt… none of it exists anymore. It's just him and her standing in the dark corridor. At that moment, the only thing in the world that matters to him is _her_.

And without missing a beat, she kisses him back.

And when they finally break apart, all they do is stare at each other awkwardly, processing the events that had just occurred. Her hands fly up to her mouth, covering it in shock, but not a single trace of anger lingers on her expression.

And with another leap of impulsiveness, he breaks the silence once again. "So, Evans," he says, his voice shaky, still unable to comprehend the turn of events. "What just happened?"

"I have no idea," she replies. Her red hair is tangled and her face is flushed bright scarlet to match her wild locks. But her shining green eyes seem to push him closer.

Garnering another dose of courage, he clears his throat. "Evans," he manages to say, as he runs a hand through his hair, "I know that I've been a jerk in the past few years to you and… your friends. And I know I've asked you this too many times to count, and that the answer would probably be the same as always. But there's a Hogsmeade trip coming up tomorrow, and I was wondering… will you come with me?"

Her face breaks out into the biggest grin. "Yes," she answers. "Of course. I'd love to go with you."

Without hesitating, she grabs ahold of him, and soon enough their faces are pressed together and not a centimeter of the darkest depths of despair can get between them.

And in that one moment, James Potter knows that this one word coming from a seventeen year old girl's lips is the most beautiful, mellifluous sound in the world.

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 **AN: Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	2. loathing

**AN: This chapter is a lot different from the last one, so tell me what you think! Thank you to Louisedb for reviewing!**

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 **~loathing~**

 **-Fourth Year-**

Despite all the arguments and hardships that are worming their way through their friendship, Lily Evans and Severus Snape could agree on one thing – James Potter was an arrogant, pigheaded toerag.

At this point, their hatred of James Potter was the biggest thing they had in common. Not even their love of Potions could possibly surpass it. Their mutual hatred and the joy that came out of complaining about Potter almost made up for the fact that Lily and Severus were drifting apart. Almost.

"I don't understand why everyone likes him," Lily grumbled, as she strode across the halls. "He's so conceited and egoistical and urgh… Some people are just awful, Sev."

"He's a pig," Severus agreed. "An excuse of a wizard."

"And yet everyone fawns over him like he's the hottest thing since Pepper Imps," she added. "I can't believe that people neglect the fact that he's the biggest bully to hit Hogwarts. He and his gang of friends… Just because he's half-decent on a broomstick and can Transfigure some things doesn't mean he's a saint!"

She stopped to gasp for breath as they reached the Transfiguration classroom. As usual, the pair sat near the front of the classroom, in the middle of the rift between the Gryffindors and Slytherins. It was far away from Lily's hatred of the Slytherins and their Dark Arts, and it was even further from Severus's detestation of chatter and foolishness. Better yet, it was usually far, far, away from Potter and his pigheaded gang. Usually.

But not that day. In a turn of events, Lily found that Potter and Black were seated behind them, with Remus and Pettigrew in tow.

Potter was sporting an arrogant, devilish grin, and Black was wearing a ridiculously, equally arrogant smile. "Morning, Evans," Black said, smirking. "Might want to stay away from old Snivellus, there. It looks as if it's been a year since he's last washed his hair."

"Shut. Up. Black," Severus and Lily both said in unison, through clenched teeth.

Potter chortled. "Careful, there, Padfoot. You better not upset old Snivelly here, or he'll introduce you to the slime that he calls shampoo."

"Oh, I'm not at all afraid," Black declared, stretching his feet onto the back of Sev's chair. "Any shampoo is an improvement over the grease on his head!"

As soon as Lily lunged over to slap them both, Professor Minerva McGonagall strode into the room, her sharp eyes taking in every inch of the classroom. She folded her lips into a thin line. "Is there a problem, Miss Evans?"

Embarrassed, Lily quickly plopped back down into her seat. "Professor, Potter and Black were trying to –"

"I don't want to hear any excuses from you, Miss Evans. You are a prefect from my House, and I expect better from you," McGonagall reprimanded. "I'm very disappointed in you."

"But Professor! Potter and Black were harassing Sev! They were saying the rudest things about him."

The raven-haired professor only shook her head. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Evans." Before Lily could open her mouth to release an indignant complaint, she turned towards the two students behind her. "And ten points each from Gryffindor for Mr. Potter's and Mr. Black's behavior. Physical aggression is not permitted at Hogwarts, but neither is bullying."

Potter and Black, who were used to having points docked from them, merely shrugged indifferently. Smirks laced their handsome faces, contrasting a pure look of fury placed upon Lily's face.

Professor McGonagall turned towards the class. "Today, as preparation for your O.W.L.s, we will be studying Vanishing Spells. Pay close attention. This is extremely advanced and important material, and those of you who fail to master it will not pass your O.W.L.s. Keep in mind that this is one of the most difficult spells that you will learn at Hogwarts."

Rage and hatred of the boys filled Lily. As blood rushed through her ears, Lily could barely comprehend McGonagall's lesson. All she could think about were those arrogant smirks pasted on their faces. She would give anything to hex Potter and Black right then and there. She would sell her soul if it meant that those smirks would slide off their haughty faces. Instead, she shot them a dirty look, making sure that the hairs on the back of their necks rose up with her cold glare.

"Alright, class," said McGonagall, severing Lily's train of thought. "Inside your desks you will each find a basket of snails. Every student needs to take out a single snail and place it on his or her desk. Do not start until I clearly tell you to. Is that understood?"

The students nodded their heads in unison, all except for two young boys. The students leaned over and each picked one slimy snail – except for the two boys of course, who were shoveling handfuls inside their pockets. Not even McGonagall, who possessed a steely, careful gaze, was able to detect them. Years of continuously nicking food from the kitchens and hexing people behind their backs had certainly paid off. With an innocent, angelic expression resting on his face, Potter easily wiped off all traces of the devilish grin that had rested on his face just a few moments before.

Severus and Lily were both deeply absorbed in their wandwork. Lily's eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration as she tried again and again to vanish her snail away. Each and every attempt was unsuccessful, and the closest that she could manage was to turn her snail a translucent color that resembled the pallor of the Hogwarts ghosts.

The rest of the class struggled as well. Mary MacDonald's snail was swollen to the size of an apple, and Peter somehow managed to make his snail multiply into dozens of smaller ones. As McGonagall turned to help the rest of the class, the two boys turned to each other and exchanged smirks.

James and Sirius carefully emptied their pockets of the snails, placing them on the desk. With a slow, lazy flick of his wand, James levitated the bunches of snails until he located his victim.

Severus Snape sat in front of them, massive beads of sweat running down his face. His eyes were scrunched shut as he tried to make his snail disappear. He waved his wand and muttered a few words, occasionally opening his eyes to check if his snail was gone. He only scowled in disappointment at his results.

He was so engrossed in his work that it took him a couple of seconds to notice the trail of slime and goo that coated his oily locks. "Sev?" Lily whispered, shaking his arm. "Look at your head!"

A collective scream arose from the room. The rest of the students started backing away, running to the other end of the classroom. Severus only stared at them in confusion. And then, he saw _it_.

Looking through a small mirror on Professor McGonagall's desk, he saw that an enormous serpent was perched atop his head, hissing at him. He nearly screamed in shock. As he spotted the cold, calculating eyes of the other Slytherin students, he swallowed his fears away. He was a Slytherin, and he couldn't wouldn't wasn't afraid of anything that slithered.

"Potter. Black. Explain yourselves," Professor McGonagall said sternly. Her usually composed face was turning a rich, deep purple color, and Severus could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. _Oh, they were so in trouble._

"Oh, it was nothing," Black replied. "James and I just Transfigured some snails into a python, and it just conveniently –I mean, accidentally – landed on Snivelly's greasy head."

"Simple really," Potter added. With another lazy swoosh of his wand, he managed to vanish the snake away from the top of Severus's head. Not a trace of the python could be found in the entire room.

"James Potter," McGonagall started to say.

Severus smirked. But instead of angrily admonishing the boys like he expected her to do, McGonagall started _clapping_. "Well done, Mr. Potter," she said, a hint of a smile creeping up on her lips. "This is the first time I've ever seen a student master the spell on his first attempt. Did anyone see how clearly he pronounced the incantation? Did you notice how precise his wand movements were?"

As the professor continued to congratulate and praise the insolent boy, Severus felt a deep sense of hatred boiling in his soul. Everyone admired _James Potter_ , but he was nothing but a lazy, arrogant, malicious scumbag who deserved to rot in Azkaban. From that day on, Severus felt nothing but intense loathing for Potter.

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 **AN: Reviews are always appreciated!**


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